


Playing Footsie

by Dynamic_Ideation



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 12 Days of Smutmas, F/M, Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dynamic_Ideation/pseuds/Dynamic_Ideation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a fancy dinner party for scientists Iris can't seem to remember the concept of personal space nor the concept of decency, and Barry  doesn't stand a chance. </p><p>"The tips of Iris’ toes traced his charcoal slacks with a barely audible swish. Barry was being his typical shy self, blushing and embarrassed and stuttering, so no one noticed anything amiss. </p><p>In the meantime, Barry’s dick was starting to grow against his leg. Iris gently nudged the tip, making it jump, making his slacks grow tight.</p><p>She had no idea what she’d kicked off."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Footsie

She was doing it again. He was starting to sweat. He rubbed his hand down his face as he tried to answer the question.  

“Yes, I studied that aspect of the particle accelerator and what I found was-“ Barry’s voice cracked as Iris’ toes crept higher up his thigh. “-was that, um-“ He found himself sputtering, trying to finish his sentence, even as he sat back in his chair, crotch angled farther forward to give her better access.     

Damn that woman. She had her elbows resting on the table, fingers interlaced, her head cocked and eyebrows raised as if to say, “yes, do go on!” 

The Chemist’s Society Annual Dinner was a fancy event, and Barry loved nothing better than to get in a room with two hundred other scientists and go crazy. He was ecstatic when he found he was seated with the society’s president, and even more ecstatic that this year he would get to show off his incredible girlfriend. 

“-and the results were inconclusive since there was no way to quantify them,” he powered through it, unsure if he was even making any sense. That incredible girlfriend of his was making it impossible to think straight. 

“That’s quite an impressive study, Mr. Allen. I’d love to see you continue it in the future,” Here the president was, giving him his props, and he couldn’t even bask in the glory because all he could think about was the secret touch inching its way up into his erogenous zone.

“Thank you, Mr. Chekhov.” Barry swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from unraveling as the tips of Iris’ toes traced his charcoal slacks with a barely audible swish. Barry was being his typical shy self, blushing and embarrassed and stuttering, so no one noticed anything amiss. 

In the meantime, Barry’s dick was starting to grow against his leg. Iris gently nudged the tip, making it jump, making his slacks grow tight.

She had no idea what she’d kicked off.

She kept right on teasing, peering into his eyes, and when she felt him getting hard her lips formed a perfect O at her discovery, the flat of her hand covering her mouth in mock scandal. When she began to trace a barely-there, lazy spiral up the shaft of his cock, higher, higher, higher, his thigh gave an involuntary jerk, smashing up into the table and making his perfectly set china dinnerware clink and rattle. Everyone paused to look at him.

“Just clumsy. Sorry.”

He gave her “the look” and she knew he was dead ass serious.

 _Men’s room. NOW_ , he mouthed.

She lifted her napkin. She coughed into it, long and loud. 

“if you gentlemen will excuse me, I seem to have a tickle.” She smiled apologetically and motioned toward her throat as she stood. 

“Of course, my dear,” Mr. Chekhov responded. Iris threw a glance over her shoulder at her man, making his heartbeat quicken to Flash speeds. 

Mr. Chekhov waited until she’d sashayed away. “Barry, I tell you, that Iris is really something. I’m so excited to see you bring such a lovely young lady to join us tonight. You’re a lucky man.”

“Sir, you have no idea.” He squeezed his eyes shut tight, feeling his blood boil with lust. “I’d better go check on her.”

Iris peeked out of the stall when she heard the restroom door open. She barely had time to wave him in before he’d crowded her tiny form back against one of the stall walls, leaning down to put his mouth on hers and fumbling with his belt buckle. Their tongues wrestled sloppily, haphazardly, reflecting their rush and their recklessness. 

There was no time for foreplay. Barry just needed to split Iris in half, right now. He hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud until he heard himself growl under his breath, “right now!” 

Iris dropped her black lace panties as quick as she could, nearly tripping in her hurry to remove them. 

Barry snatched up her navy pencil skirt, fingers digging sharply into the flesh of her thighs and buttocks, aiming to spread her open. She was already dripping wet, and it made him lose his last shred of decency. He didn’t bother to drop his pants, he only took the time to free his erection before he hefted her up like she weighed nothing at all and pinned her back against the stall. 

The surface lightly scraped Iris’ ass and static cling made a mess of her hair as Barry slid her up and down with the force of his thrusts. Zippers, buttons and jewelry clattered as he pumped her and she moved her hips in tandem with his. 

“We’re too loud, Barry,” came her ragged whisper into his ear.

“You started this, and now you suddenly want to be the voice of reason,” he rasped into the soft, delicately-scented skin of her neck. But he wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. She huffed out a laugh. Trying to be silent when they should have been hollering was the more frustrating -and most exciting -aspect of it all. It translated into desperate, soul-searching glances and deeper scratches and silent open-mouthed curses and prayers.

“Iris. You make me fucking crazy. You drive me fucking _crazy_ …”

“Shhh, you’re gonna get us caught.”

“I don’t care-” He opened his mouth to say more, and Iris took the opportunity to shove her wadded up panties in his mouth, then covered his lips with her hand. His voice died in his throat. 

His face contorted and he made a small sound that mixed a sigh and a moan, because it was just so damn sexy. It spurred him on, propelled him to move quicker and harder, nailing her into the side of the stall. 

There was no mistaking the sound of sex as her lower back was driven into the thick plastic, making it wobble and the hinges creak in protest. Iris tapped his shoulder and pointed down. Barry couldn’t reply around the lace in his mouth so he simply snorted and lowered her down, her feet scarcely touching the ground before he turned her around and bent her over the toilet. 

Iris tried to brace herself against the tile, her forearms flat and her forehead leaned against them. 

Barry seized her hips, pulling her back onto his stiff dick while he fucked her relentlessly, at liberty to go as hard as he wanted with their expensive formal clothing muffling the slap noise that would have been heard otherwise. Iris squirmed as he went to work on her, the inability to vocalize her pleasure making her tremble uncontrollably. 

Barry watched the sweat begin to bead on her back, saw her turn her head and bite deeply into her upper arm to keep from screaming. Her pussy flexed tighter and her legs started to shake, and he knew she was close. Her perfectly manicured hand flailed behind her and found his wrist and her nails dug in as she yanked his arm, urging him to fuck her harder and faster; he didn’t hold back.

Iris' dark hair bobbed as she nodded her head _yes_ and the flat of her hand tapped against the wall in sweet submission, a grimace on her lovely face as she took The Flash’s metahuman dick at warp speed. Her abs seized up and she lifted her left leg off the ground, curling it up around his hip, her back flexed, arched and curved in quick, spastic movements at the same time her walls flexed, arched and curved around his cock. 

He pincered her thigh and buried himself deep, trying to come in silence. 

His vision cloudy and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from shouting, Barry shot into her so hard it made him hunch over.

He mumbled an exhausted “fuuuuuck” around the material of the panties, still in his mouth. He tried to hold them both up as they went limp, sucking in air through flared nostrils, hearts beating out of their chests. 

It took a moment to recover, but when they did they scrambled to right themselves. They cleaned themselves up, Iris wiping the slickness between her thighs, Barry wiping the spot on the front of his slacks that got damp from her pussy; luckily the material was dark. Iris left the panties off, Barry shoved them in his pocket like a trophy. She smoothed down her skirt. He helped her smooth her static-rustled hair. They appeared well put together again as they snuck out the bathroom separately. 

Their absence didn’t seem to alarm anyone.

“Oh, Barry, I was just mentioning to Doug here that the particle accelerator has always been a passion of yours.”

“Indeed it has,” Barry replied, much more relaxed and confident this time around. He missed the quizzical look that crossed Chekhov’s face when he noted the change in demeanor.

Iris returned a moment later. “I just couldn’t stop coughing. I made a real mess of myself in there.”

“Yeah, you did,” Barry agreed with a wide smile. 

“Are you alright, Iris?” Chekhov asked. 

“Oh yes, I’m fine. As a matter of fact, I’m excellent. Lucky thing Barry was there to take care of me.” She turned toward him and winked, making his blood pressure skyrocket again. 

“You’d better, young man,” Mr. Chekhov wags a mock serious finger at Barry.

“Oh, he always does,” Iris assured him. “He’s going to take even better care of me when we get home.” Barry laughed and stuck his hand in his pocket, tangling his fingers soft lace of her panties, ready to do it all over again.


End file.
